


Fool Me Twice

by orphan_account



Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: Community: galentinesday, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to Stahma Tarr, nothing is as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fool Me Twice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quarter_to_five](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarter_to_five/gifts).



**"** _**You know, I've had my eye on the wrong snake. You're the dangerous one.** _ **"**

Unlike her husband, Stahma Tarr did not hate humans. Once, she even thought them to be fascinating. As a young bride stepping on to this planet's soil for the first time, she found herself strangely drawn to these pink-skinned creatures. She even took it upon herself to study their bizarre traditions, from their hidden caste structure to their strange habit of privacy to the way their women walked around wild and uninhibited, unsupervised by their fathers and husbands.

“Wife, this is beneath you,” Datak said to her as they lounged in the bath together. “We have a team of scientists studying every aspect of human life. You bring dishonor to our family by mingling with these savages.”

Stahma bowed her head in the traditional Castithan sign of deference. “Of course, husband. It was foolish of me to indulge my curiosity. I will turn my attentions to activities more befitting of a Castithan mother.”

Datak's eyes widened in surprise at her revelation. “Stahma,” he whispered, “are you sure?”

She lay a hand on her still flat stomach and smiled.

“The doctor confirmed my condition this morning. It's a boy, I can feel it. A son for the house of Tarr.”

…

Stahma smiled at the memory. Now her son celebrated his wedding night, while she lay in the company of Datak's favorite whore. The irony was not lost on her.

“Stahma, stop worrying. I gave Alak and Christie the best room in the house.”

She smiled at the pretty human who lay beside her.

“I am well aware of that, but I cannot seem to help myself. If only Alak would permit me to observe the consummation in accordance with our traditions. Then I could be certain-”

Kenya cut her off midsentence by laying a trail of kisses along Stahma's body from hip to collarbone.

“Trust me, Christie does not want her mother-in-law to watch her while she has sex with your son. Relax, they'll be fine.”

Sometimes Stahma wished she had continued her studies. Humans were so complex. Even after all these years, they still surprised her.

Kenya Rosewater was a mass of contradictions. On Casti, sex workers came from the lowest liro, shunned by all but their clients. Kenya was the mayor's sister, treated with respect. Perhaps this was why Kenya chose to work as a prostitute when it was obvious less “sordid” career paths were open to her.

Yet, what Shahma found most puzzling about Kenya Rosewater is her innocence and naïveté. Kenya hides it well, but Stahma can see through the mask of feigned worldly practicality to the fragile creature underneath. Stahma knew even before the affair started that she would not be just another of Kenya's many clients. Kenya looked at Stahma and saw the abused wife of a brutal man, much as Kenya herself had been years ago. She will never see the fire beneath Stahma's air of submissiveness.

Most beings, regardless of race or gender, look at others and see what lies on the surface. Stahma gazed upon the faces of others and saw opportunities, tools to further her own agenda. Stahma used her talents on many occasions to advance her family's social and financial position.

Shahma had been honest when she said it was nice to have something all to herself, completely separate from her life with Datak and Alak. Making love to Kenya was a new and pleasurable experience. This little human woman had awakened a passion within her that Stahma had not felt since her early days with Datak.

Poor Kenya, Shahma had become surprisingly fond of her lover, but, like so many others, Kenya is still a means to an end.

“Okay, Stahma, what is it?” Kenya asked. She looked worried.

“Nothing, my dear,” Stahma replied, as she pulled her human lover closer. “Datak will not expect me home for some time. We have the entire night to ourselves. I just hope he doesn't notice the extra expense.”

Kenya smirked. “Oh, don't you worry about the money. “The mother of the groom always gets a discount!”

….

Kenya dreamed of fear. In her nightmare, her former client chased her through the woods, demanding that she drink from a poisoned flask of water. Overhead, someone was singing soothingly. She ran from one end of the woods to another, searching for Defiance, trying to find a way home. Around and around in circles she went, only to end up back where she started.

She awoke panting and sweating, crying out Stahma's name. “Just a dream,” she whispered, “just a stupid, goddamn dream.”

“She's awake, check her vitals again.” The voice was familiar.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings. She was in a hospital. Two Indogenes were standing over her with a scanner. One was a stranger, but the other was unmistakable.

“Doc,” she whispered, surprised at her hoarse she sounded, “Stahma Tarr... she tried to kill me. I need to see my sister.”

“Hello Kenya, that's... going to be more difficult than it sounds. Narea, go and fetch Pilar and Tommy, they're the ones who found her.”

Yewlin motioned her assistant towards the door.

Kenya struggled to sit up, but she was too weak.

“Kenya, I need to lie back and sit still, your body is still... well, I'm letting someone else tell you the news.”

Kenya looked around her. This wasn't Yewlin's old infirmary, it was a real hospital, the kind Kenya had only seen in New York. Had she been moved to another town after Stahma knocked her out?

Kenya's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Two figures came into view. One was a very good-looking human man, the other looked Castihan, but her hair and eyes were brown.

“Kenya,” the woman said, “I can't begin to tell you how excited I am to meet you. You're something of a legend in this town.”

“What do you mean a legend? Who are you people?”

“Just give her the letter, Pilar,” the man said.

The woman silently handed Kenya a faded sheet of paper.

“What is this?”

“Please, just read it, my grandmother gave it to me before she died. She said it was important.”

Sighing, Kenya began to read, hoping against hope that this was just another nightmare and she would wake up again in her own bed.

_Dearest Kenya,_

_If you're reading this letter, than I have finally passed on to be reunited with my husband and ancestors._

_When we began our relationship, I convinced myself that you were just a pretty plaything. Even then, I planned to use you to get to your sister. It was only when my husband ordered your death that I realized I had come to care for you. Keeping you alive was impossible, but I could not bear to end your life. Instead I injected you with a drug that would give the appearance of death and buried you in the woods. Without a proper cryostasis unit, you will only last several decades, but I've given instructions to my granddaughter to dig you up. I am sorry to take you away from your family and friends but at least you will live, my beautiful Kenya. I wish you love and happiness in your new life._

_Stahma Tarr_

Kenya read the letter several times before tearing it to pieces and throwing it in the trashcan beside her bed.

“That bitch,” she hissed,” that damn shtako bitch.”

 


End file.
